The heavy obsidian doors of the mausoleum yielded to Zen's push with a grinding, bone-chilling shriek that echoed across the desolate graveyard.
As the doors swung open, a wave of freezing, necrotic air washed over him, carrying the scent of ancient dust and concentrated Void magic.
The interior of the mausoleum was massive, like a sprawling subterranean chamber lit only by the eerie, pulsing purple glow of the corrupted ley-lines running along the walls.
The air here was so thick with unrefined mana that it felt like walking underwater.
At the far end of the chamber, hovering above a cracked stone altar, was the source of the anomaly.
It was a Void-Lich.
Unlike the skeletal knights outside, the Lich was not a creature of bone and steel. It was a swirling, floating amalgamation of raw necrotic energy and tattered black robes. A skeletal face with burning purple eyes peered out from the darkness of its hood.
